Wednesday, October 22, 2014

The Last Glass

The Last Glass

by T. M. Lazar

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Synopsis:

Tori Knight moves to a small New York town where things aren't always what they seem. Though reluctant to leave her old life behind, she meets new friends, and falls for a guy.
Crispin DeMortimer is the most popular boy at Grimmsburg High. He had a summer fling with Natalia, the rich doctor's daughter, and also heir to a secret society. However, when he sees Tori for the first time, he feels an instant connection with her, one he has never felt before. Lucky for him, Tori feels the same. It's the start of a new chapter, for both Tori and Crispin, and Grimmsburg, NY is where untold secrets will be revealed, and challenges beyond anyone's imagination will be brought forth. Will the secrets of Grimmsburg bring Tori and Crispin together, or will these life changing secrets be too much for them both? This is book one in the series The Creatures of Grimmsburg by T.M. Lazar.

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Excerpts:

#1

This dream was different. I saw Crispin. I actually saw him! I was wearing a red gown.
“You look lovely.” Crispin said, as he held out his hand for me to take.
“Thank you.” I took his hand in mine. I let him lead me out onto a balcony.
I noticed Crispin was wearing a suit that was dark red velvet. My breath caught as saw the view. It was incredible; the moon shined brightly on us, I watched the shadows dance around. Within all the beauty, there was something very wrong about being here. Deep down I knew it was something bad. I just didn’t know what exactly.
I looked up into his beautiful face and asked, “Crispin, why are we here?” I did my best to keep my voice steady as I spoke.
Letting go of my hand he sighed. “This is an amazing view, isn’t it?” I let out a sigh and nodded. He continued, “However, that’s not why I brought you here.”
My voice shook as I spoke, “Crispin?”
He smiled, “I’m terribly sorry that it has to be this way, Tori.” My heart started to race as I caught the sight of his fangs glistening in the moonlight. I covered my mouth and shook my head.
“No!” Crispin laughed at my denial. “No. No.” he stopped laughing as he stared at me. There was no more emotion left in his face, only hunger, in his red eyes.
I screamed, as I ran away from the balcony. I screamed for help, but no one heard me. I glanced over my shoulder to see Crispin was no longer on the balcony. I was startled and fell, as I came face to face with Crispin. I was terrified. I scrambled away from, him but he walked faster. Crispin bent down and picked me up. He held me by the throat. Hot tears rolled down my cheeks. “Please don’t, Crispin.” I whimpered. His grip loosened, he tilted my head to expose my neck even more. “Please, no.” I pleaded. Crispin just smiled. Then he sank his fangs into my throat. I screamed.
“Tori, Tori, Tori wake up!” Sophie shook me. My eyes popped open. I sat up and brought my hands to my throat. Tears stung my eyes. My breathing was rapid. Finally, it slowed. Sophie looked at me, terrified. “Are you okay?” She reached out to touch my arm and I flinched.
I dropped my hands into my lap. I shook my head, “a nightmare, a real bad one.”
 #2
What stopped me was her! Beautiful long honey brown hair and those eyes! Man, she was smoking hot. She had on a tight blue top that made her tits look awesome. As I kept running my eyes down her body, I saw the faded skinny jeans that molded to her curves perfectly. And fuck, she had to have on cowboy boots. I have a thing for chicks in cowboy boots! I ran my eyes back up her incredible body and she caught me staring.
A smile came across her face as the blood crept into her cheeks. She looked away slowly, then back to me. I watched as she slowly lifted her head and our eyes met again and my breath caught. I have to know her! As we continue to stare at each other, I could feel my teeth throb from the pain of my fangs wanting to elongate. This feeling felt intense, I never felt like this before, I wanted her to be mine! I wanted to claim her as my own I would to protect her. I wanted to… Where the hell were these thoughts coming from?
“Crispin? Are you okay?” Carly waved her hand in my face. When I snapped out of whatever just happened I looked at Carly, “What?” I asked annoyed. “You were…” Carly trailed off as she looked at the girl, “Oh my God,” Carly whispered. What did Carly know that I didn’t? I looked back at the girl. Who was she, and why am I feeling things for her?

Teasers:

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 About the Author:

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T.M. Lazar lives in upstate NY. She started writing her debut novel, The Last Glass, at the age of 16. At the age of 19, she made her dream a reality. She was signed by Entertwine Publishing. Along with writing, she is an avid reader, and loves to spend time with her family and friends, camping, swimming, drawing, dancing, and just hanging out! She will also be starting college soon, and majoring in Liberal Arts and Literature.

Social media links:

Other books, coming soon by T.M. Lazar

Cover Reveal: Here/Now

Join our Royal Celebration with the Cover Reveal
for HERE/NOW by D.D. Lorenzo

HERE/NOW Book 3 of the Depth of Emotion Series


Carter Sinclair…
He’s gone home.
He’s assessed mistakes.
He’s risen from the ashes.


Carter was a “rules” kind of guy. He worked and believed in the system, but the system was unjust. His wife is dead, his brother tragically injured, and an innocent woman paid for the sins of another. Assessing his life, he determines that deceit and lies no longer have a place there. He’s lived in the darkness of his own despair, and watched evil corrupt the lives of those he loves. His intent is to destroy it.
What he didn’t expect was something beautiful to emerge from the darkness...
Regret lives in the past.
Hope lives in the future.
Reality is the present.


Here/Now
is the struggle.


Is it possible that tragic circumstances can birth the most unexpected blessings?


Add it to your Goodreads Book shelf by clicking below:


dd

DD Lorenzo is a modern-day storyteller. Her novels reach deep into the heart of readers and engage them through the emotions of her characters. DD resides in Maryland, The Land of Pleasant Living. She met the love of her life in high school and decided to look no further. Together, they have an eclectic and amazing family. When she isn’t writing stories of the impassioned lives of her characters, she is rooting for the Baltimore Ravens or the Baltimore Orioles. Her favorite pastimes include spending time with the wonderful people in her life and riding in her husband’s classic Mustang to the Eastern Shore. “Selective/Memory” is Book 2 in The “Depth of Emotion” Series. It is the conclusion to the cliffhanger “Positive/Negativity” (she promises!). There are five books planned for the series. Book 3, “Here/Now” will be centered on character Carter Sinclair, a fan favorite. “Here/Now” is planned for release Fall, 2014.





Tuesday, October 21, 2014

Highland Wolf Pact





Sibyl Blackthorne isn’t afraid of anything—except maybe being sold into marriage to a man she doesn’t love. A man she’s never even met. A man who, by reputation, is one of Scotland’s cruelest lairds in over a century.

But what choice does she have, with her father dead and her uncle now married to his brother’s widow, putting him in charge of not only the Blackthorne fortune, but Sibyl’s future as well?

Then her betrothed turns out to actually be far worse than his reputation, so headstrong Sibyl decides life as a peasant, or even death, would be preferable to a future with such a despicable man, and makes plans to run away.

On an organized hunt for wolves—or, as the Scots call them, wulvers—Sybil escapes her fiancĂ©’s clutches, only to find she’s run into something far more untamed and dangerous in the middle of the woods.

When a big, brawny, long-haired man, who only speaks to her in Gaelic and calls himself Raife, simply picks her up and carries her off with him into the Scottish wild, Sibyl knows she’s in trouble.

When he takes her to a place no human has ever been, she knows she’s gone over the edge.

And when he, at last, marks her as his own, she discovers that only one wild heart can claim another.



Excerpt
“What are you doing?” Sibyl protested, but barely had time to get the words out before the big man had divested her of her weapon and had thrown her over his shoulder and began carrying her downstream. “Stop! Let me go!”

Her words were lost in the rush of the water and he didn’t seem to hear her at all as he moved quickly—much faster and more nimbly than she expected of a man of his size—down the shoreline. She beat at his back with her fists, but he didn’t seem to notice that either, and before long, her hands ached. It was like hitting a slab of rock. When he stopped, she lifted her head to look around, noting their position, away from the protection of the tree line now.

And then she heard it. Could he really have detected the sound, so far away? The dogs were barking again. On the hunt. She imagined Alistair telling the story to his men, making up something so he, of course, looked like the wounded hero. Perhaps he would tell them she had been kidnapped by the massive brute who now had her thrown over his shoulder—and really, was that far from the truth? She knew he wouldn’t tell them she had put an arrow through him. That much he would leave out, she was sure. She hoped.

“They’re coming!” she hissed, beating at the human rock’s back again. She hit him in the side, eliciting a satisfying grunt from the man, and did it again, pleased when she heard his sharp intake of breath. “Let me go! They’re coming for me!”

“Bidh modhail!” he snapped, his hand coming down hard on her behind. Sibyl hadn’t been spanked since she was a child and, while it really didn’t hurt, given how much padding she had on under her skirts, the humiliation of it reddened her cheeks and made her instantly quiet.

And then they were flying.

It wasn’t really flying, but it felt that way. He was so agile, so quick and light on his feet, it felt as if he had simply taken flight as they crossed the stream. Behind them, the dogs grew closer. They were onto a scent—likely her own and she cursed herself for not grabbing her hat, which would allow the dogs to pick up her trail—and pursued it with fervor. Sibyl bounced on the big man’s shoulder, squealing at one point, thinking surely he would fall and she would go tumbling head-first to her death onto the slippery, moss-covered rocks, but then they were across, heading into the cover of the woods on the other side.

Once they were a sight distance from the tree line, the man upended her with a grunt, putting her back onto her feet. Sibyl pushed an already tangled mass of auburn hair away from her face and glared up at him. He didn’t smile, but his eyes danced, clearly amused at her stance—hands on her hips, face upturned—and the words that came tumbling out of her mouth.

“You bumbling idiot! You could have killed us both!” she snapped. “I didn’t ask for your help. Do you understand me? I don’t want your help! No! Go! Away with you!”

She shooed him away like an annoying fly but the man didn’t move. He just looked down at her with those devilish blue eyes.

“Goodbye! Mar sin leibh!” She didn’t know many phrases in Scottish Gaelic, but she had learned a few from Moira. Hello, goodbye, please and thank you. So she said the words, hoping he would understand, and from the look on his face, it was clear he got her meaning. “I’m going! Mar sin leibh! Goodbye!”

She turned and stalked off, getting as far as the nearest tree before he grabbed her again.

“Will you stop that?” she cried, pushing at his arms as they encircled her and turned her to him. “No! Chan eil! Chan eil!”

She repeated the Gaelic word for no, seeing the frown on his face at her protest.

“Shh.” He touched a finger to her lips, shaking his head.

“Chan eil,” she objected again, but this time, the word came out in a mere whisper. “No… please…”

“Tha.” His thumb traced her jawline as he looked down at her, the sunlight dappled across his face and chest. She knew the word—tha. Yes. It meant “yes.” Sibyl felt her breath quicken as the stranger traced her lips with one finger, his gaze falling to her mouth, then to her throat, then further down still, to the way her breasts nearly overflowed the top of her disheveled dress.

“Tha,” he said again, lifting his gaze to meet her eyes. So blue. His eyes were so blue. “Yes.”

“You… you speak English?” she whispered, cocking her head at him in wonder. “Who… who are you?”





Selena Kitt is a NEW YORK TIMES bestselling author of erotic romance fiction and erotica. OVER A MILLION BOOKS SOLD! Her writing embodies everything from the spicy to the scandalous.

When she's not pawing away at her keyboard, Selena runs an innovative publishing company (excessica.com). She does bellydancing and photography, and she loves four poster beds, tattoos, voyeurism, blindfolds, velvet, baby oil, the smell of leather, and playing kitty cat.

Her books EcoErotica (2009), The Real Mother Goose (2010) and Heidi and the Kaiser (2011) were all Epic Award Finalists. Her gay male romance, Second Chance, won the Epic Award in Erotica in 2011. Her FREE story, Connections, was one of the runners-up for the 2006 Rauxa Prize, given annually to an erotic short story of "exceptional literary quality," out of over 1,000 nominees, where awards are judged by a select jury and all entries are read "blind" (without author's name available.)

She can be reached on her website at selenakitt.com


Facebook Fan Page: facebook.com/selenakittfanpage

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The ARt of Love- New Release!




The Art of Love by Michele Shriver
Published on October 21, 2014







Chelsea Matthews has a simple dream—travel the country on the art fair circuit selling her hand-crafted jewelry. When her disapproving father refuses to release her trust fund money to support her ambitions, she takes a part-time job in a campus gallery. While counting the days until she can be free of its stuffy confines, an unexpected temptation comes in the form of a sensitive painter.

For Hayden Shaw, having his paintings displayed in the finest galleries is the true measure of an artist’s success. When the pursuit of his goal puts him in contact with the free-spirited Chelsea, his world is turned upside down.

Can two seemingly opposite artists find middle ground and discover the art of love, or will a gallery curator with an agenda of her own undermine both their dreams?




Hayden Shaw stopped and took a deep breath. Whittier Gallery. The name was etched on the door, and underneath that, in smaller letters, Marissa Kincaid, Curator. Was she the woman who would change his life?

A chime sounded as Hayden pulled the door open and walked inside, a portfolio of his work tucked under his arm. He had a pitch prepared as to why this particular gallery should feature his art. That same pitch hadn’t gone over well at the last gallery he visited, but he was undeterred.

A woman sat behind the desk talking on the phone and she gestured in his direction that she was almost finished. Not wanting to eavesdrop, Hayden nodded and wandered in the direction of one of the displays. It featured oil painted scenes of the Boston Harbor, and he couldn’t deny the skill of the artist. Did Hayden’s own work belong here? Was he good enough?

No negative thoughts, Shaw, he chastised himself. Hayden remembered the pep talk his roommate had given him before he left. He had to be bold and confident.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Can I help you?”

Hayden turned around to face the woman as she stepped out from behind the desk. “I hope so. Are you Ms. Kincaid?” As he studied her face, though, Hayden doubted it. The woman facing him didn’t appear much older than his own twenty years. He doubted she was old enough to be in charge of a prestigious art gallery.

She shook her head and tucked a wayward strand of light brown hair behind her ear. “No. I’m Chelsea Matthews. I just work here.”

“Hayden Shaw.” He extended his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“What can I do for you?”

“I’m a student here at MassArt,” Hayden said. “I understand you display student work, and I have a portfolio with some pictures of my paintings—”

“Pictures?” Chelsea interrupted, “or paintings?”

Hadn’t he made that clear? Hayden tried again. “I’m painter and I’m interested in having my paintings displayed here. I do photorealism, so they’re paintings based on photographs. I didn’t want to lug the originals all the way across campus, so I brought pictures of them.”

“So, pictures of paintings of pictures is what you’re saying.” Chelsea’s face carried an amused expression, and Hayden wasn’t sure how to take it. Was she making fun of him, or rather his style? Not everyone understood or appreciated photorealism. Maybe this gallery wasn’t the right place after all. Or was she simply trying to joke around? He didn’t always get people with quirky senses of humor.

“I guess you could say that.” He set the portfolio on the desk. “Would you like to see them?”

“I could look at them, but it’s not up to me whether the gallery will showcase your work,” Chelsea said. “Can you leave this so I can show Marissa?”

“Sure. I can do that.”

“Good. She should be back in a little later,” she said. “Can I ask you something, though?”

Hayden nodded. “Fire away.”

“Why here?”

He had the speech prepared as to why he felt this gallery was a good fit, but truthfully it wasn’t much different than the one he gave at the previous gallery. Besides, he didn’t think that was what she wanted to hear. “I’m not sure what you mean?”

“I mean what’s the appeal here? What’s so special about galleries?”

Was she serious? She worked in a gallery, and she wanted him to tell her what was special about them? “I want people to see my work.”

“Then why not display it around campus? In the classroom buildings, stairwells, wherever. People do.”

He knew that. It was impossible to walk anywhere on the MassArt campus without seeing student artwork on display. While it made for an interesting environment, seeing paintings in stairwells, sculptures on the grass and metal works hanging from a tree, Hayden didn’t quite understand why it was such a popular thing to do. “I want people to be able to appreciate my work.”

“Who’s to say that the folks walking down Huntington Avenue can’t appreciate it?”

She had a point, and Hayden was left unsure how to respond. “It’s not the same.”

“You mean you want someone to appreciate it by buying it.” Her lips curled up in a smile. “Am I right, Hayden Shaw?”

She was, and Hayden hated how materialistic she made him sound. He stuck his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and averted his gaze to the floor.

“Oh please, don’t be embarrassed.” Chelsea laughed. “Making money is a noble goal. I certainly want to make money from my art.”

“You’re an artist too?” Hayden regarded her with curiosity. “What kind? Are you a student here?”

“Yes. Jewelry and metalsmithing major.” She reached up and touched the necklace she wore, holding it out for him to see. “I made this.”

For the first time, Hayden examined it. It looked to be made out of Scrabble tiles, spelling out the letters F-R-E-E. Art was definitely in the eye of the beholder, but he found the necklace oddly appealing, much like the woman who wore it. “It’s very unique,” he said. “Are you? Free, that is?”

Mischief danced in her hazel eyes. Pretty eyes, he decided. Not unlike the rest of her. “It depends on the context in which you’re asking.”

“A woman of mystery. I like that,” Hayden said, then wished he could take the words back. The conversation had veered dangerously close to flirting, which probably wasn’t wise given that he hoped to have a business relationship with this gallery. “Is your work on display here?” His eyes scanned the gallery showroom for any cases that might house jewelry.

She shook her head. “No. Galleries aren’t my thing, and my work’s not Marissa’s thing.” She shrugged. “I’m hoping to go on the art fair circuit this summer, after graduation.”

“Art fairs?” Hayden frowned.

“Yeah. You know, like Ann Arbor. Des Moines. Kansas City.”

Why would anyone pass on a prestigious gallery in Boston in favor of the capital of Iowa or a city most famous for barbecue? “Are you from the Midwest?” Hayden asked.

“No. New Hampshire.”

“Then I don’t see a connection,” Hayden said.

“The cities I just mentioned host some of the best art fairs in the country,” Chelsea said. “Surely you’ve heard of them.” She said it as if she expected everyone had.

Hayden shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint you, but no. Art fairs aren’t really my thing.” He didn’t get the appeal of traveling to cities in the middle of nowhere, peddling art on the street. “No offense, but have you considered aiming a little higher?” Okay, so the Scrabble necklace was kind of strange. Some people liked strange.

The amusement that once reflected in her eyes faded, and Hayden knew at once that his words had offended her. “No offense, but have you?” She retorted before turning away from him. “I’ll show Marissa your pictures when she gets back.”





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Michele Shriver writes women’s fiction and contemporary romance. Her books feature flawed-but-likeable characters in real-life settings. She’s not afraid to break the rules, but never stops believing in happily ever after. In her free time, Michele enjoys football, hockey and reading a good book written by someone else.

Website: www.micheleshriver.com

Blog: http://micheleshriver.wordpress.com/blog/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Author-Michele-Shriver/241190605939040

Twitter: www.twitter.com/micheleshriver


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Southern Rocker

Author Ginger Voight returns her readers to the star-making world of rockers and romance with her SOUTHERN ROCKER series. It's all the angst and the passion you desire, with several familiar faces from the beloved GROUPIE universe along the way! SOUTHERN ROCKER BOY is written from Jonah's point of view, and book one of an exciting new trilogy expected to release in its entirety by the end of 2014.

NOW AVAILABLE


When Jonah Riley’s father dies unexpectedly, he, his grieving mother and ailing sister are forced to move from the country to Austin, Texas. Jonah finds work at an auspicious night spot called Southern Nights, where he earns a few extra bucks as a bouncer-turned-musician.
There he meets fiery songstress Lacy Abernathy, who has no use for him or anyone else in the club when she’s not on stage. This is an entirely new experience for this ladies’ man. The opportunistic club owner latches onto this chemistry to fill her club, playing with their hearts and livelihoods for her own questionable motives.
Enter music executive Graham Baxter, who offers them both a way out…by competing for a recording contract they both need. Now if only they can fight the intense chemistry that keeps them locked in battle, when they're not locked in each other's arms, that is!
#2 - SOUTHERN ROCKER CHICK expected Nov. 21.
#3 - SOUTHERN ROCKER DUET expected Dec. 12.
 
Ginger Voight is prolific author, freelance writer and optioned screenwriter. Her fiction is diverse, with novels like the edgy, coming-of-age drama DIRTY LITTLE SECRETS, and the fun family adventure for kids of all ages, COMIC SQUAD.
Having grown up reading different authors like Danielle Steel and Stephen King, Ginger has always been drawn more to story than to genre. This shows up in her various stories. Titles such as MY IMMORTAL and TASTE OF BLOOD are a delicious, heady mix of horror, suspense, and romance.
Genre romance, however, has held a special place in her heart, ever since she read her first Harlequin novel when she was only eleven. As a result, Ginger is making a name for herself writing romances of her own, starring women who look more like the average American woman rather than those traditionally represented in the size-biased American media. Her Rubenesque romances were created especially for those heroines with fuller figures, who can still get the man of their dreams if only they believe they can. Such titles include UNDER TEXAS SKIES, LOVE PLUS ONE, THE GROUPIE TRILOGY, THE FIERCE TRILOGY, THE FULLERTON FAMILY SAGA, THE LEFTOVER CLUB and PICTURE POSTCARDS.
Ginger was included in the best-selling book by Smith Magazine NOT QUITE WHAT I WAS PLANNING, featuring her six-word memoir.

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